


American Nightmare

by Momo21



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), Pierce the Veil
Genre: 5 Seconds Of Summer Imagines, Based on a Pierce the Veil Song, Cheater, Cheating, College, F/M, No Dialogue, Other, Walking In On Someone, relationship going south, southern constellations, the boy who could fly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momo21/pseuds/Momo21
Summary: It's about Clara (an OC) walking in on her boyfriend, Michael, cheating on her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a year ago, had it on AO3, but took it off when I submitted it for class. I always meant to put it back on, but I always forgot. I personally loved the idea I had about this story, and I might actually go back later on in the year and make it longer and fix it up a bit.  
> Short story, wrote it based off of the song "Southern Constellations and the Boy Who Could Fly" by Pierce the Veil for my creative writing class last year.  
> Hope you like it

Cold winter skies mimicked her mood.  Brisk air and sharp winds  poured in from the open window, making it feel like she was being stabbed all over. A scene of corruptness and deception stood before her. It was in that moment when everything finally clicked together; memories flooded her vision as she stood completely still. She finally realized what her life was. Filled with lies and manipulation, it never occurred to her what her relationship of two years was. Of course, she always had her suspicions, but she pretended like everything was fine and it was perfect. She was told not to trust the  cocky exchange student, an Australian of 20 , but she just couldn’t help it. The way he always chased all those other guys away from her, pretending that everything she gave was enough for him, acting interested in her stories and jokes, it was fine. Behind the facade, he was frozen in all the attention raining down on him. But if he was frozen, she would be too. Frozen in her early twenties, never sure if she could love someone again.

_ How long has this been going on.  _ She thought.

Clara, a college of student of 21 , peered from their bedroom door-frame in awe of her--soon to be ex--boyfriend cheating on her. The girl in bed was running her neon blue nails down Clara’s boyfriend’s back, the scene never fleeing from her mind. She had already thrown her purse and jacket on the love-seat, shoes were kicked off at the doormat; she was settled for the night. She wanted to crawl in bed where her boyfriend was, and fall asleep after her exhausting day. But that won’t be happening anytime soon.  Chest heaving, blood boiling, she made a noise of disgust and slammed the door; the two were startled and Michael began shouting and stumbling after Clara, but she had already grabbed her purse and was  storming down  the complex’s staircase, aggressively gripping onto the railings; no time nor patience to wait for the elevator. She wanted out of that building.  Her short legs, exhausted and sore , could no longer hold her shaking body up.  Mind racing, trust broken , she had no idea how to feel or act; her body moved into fetal position and cried at the bottom of the dimly lit emergency staircase.

Caught up in her moment of despair, she couldn’t see herself without him. Without him, there was no her; he has been her life since the beginning of college. The rusty stairwell had taken a jab at her calf when she was bolting down it. Her calf had a nasty cut and was beginning to bleed, thankfully her jeans took most of the damage; but it wasn’t the only thing bleeding. Her entire mind was bleeding out all the memories she had of him, trying her best to pinpoint what caused him to do this to her. All her hazy and colorful memories, poured out from the stairwell and into the sewage drain below. 

After what seemed like a half hour of crying and shaking, with no one coming to her avail, Clara steadily got up and trudged towards the emergency exit, ten feet from where she was pouring her soul out. The rain, faintly falling, felt like glass shards piercing her body. Slugging her way to her car parked at the now expired meter, she slips on the wet autumn leaves, resulting in falling on the concrete. Her already scraped up leg with dried blood is worse; palms covered in dirt, blood slowly making it’s way to the surface; her eye-glasses underneath her left arm, bent and shattered. Vision blurred and eyes swollen, she cautiously picked herself up and got inside of her car. 

She sat in her car in silence with the heat on to warm up her aching muscles. Not being able to hear her phone go off in the poor serviced stairwell, she pulled it out of her purse and noticed the six voicemails, all from Michael. She put the volume on low and listened to her ex trying to explain what happened and asking her to call him. Replying with a quick text saying, ‘It’s over. I don’t want to see your face for the time being. I’ll come by tomorrow to pick up my stuff at your place. Good bye.’ She locked the phone and turned the ignition on, slowly pulling out of the parking meter and onto the sulfuric, California roads; a drive to clear her head and to reflect on these past two years.


End file.
